A long sought after dream
by St.Jack
Summary: One half of an ancient myth arrives to collect on an old promise.
1. Introductions and Abductions

Disclaimer: I do now own anything even remotely related to Love Hina intellectual property, Any and all chapters I may or may not write also do not claim any ownership on my part of any Love Hina Intellectual property.

Ok, it should be obvious where this fanfiction takes off and I'm using Manga continuity.

* * *

"I'll completely destroy your dormitory!" Kanako had heard enough, it was _her_ that loved Keitaro most of all. None of these juvenile, dysfunctional _children_ could hope to understand the depth of feeling she held for her brother. Hewas the one who had defended her when they were young and played with her when the other children had only contempt and fear to offer. Keitaro had never understood why she never cared. She had no need of friends. She had him. Friends, Naru had seemed like a friend, she had defended Kanako from the other residents. The only person, who had ever done that, was him.

Kanako drew the detonator out from her sleeve, determined to end the farce. The others stared at her in disbelief, unable to understand how she could destroy their home. This way was best; she would splinter the Hinata Sou family so that when Keitaro returned he would have nowhere to stay. She would take him home and away from these girls who would use him for his kindness.

"Stop Kanako!" Naru's voice rang out too late. There was an audible click as Kanako's finger detonated the explosive that would destroy Hinata Sou, the source of her brother's grief. She had spun to watch the demolition of the Inn when a white van came speeding up the hill to her right, sailed up over her head and crashed into the cart where she had placed the explosives. There was a massive concussion and for Kanako Urashima, all was dark.

* * *

Kanako's eyes were gummed with grit and seemed determined to remain closed. Persevering, she managed to open her left eye and sat up or rather, tried to. What little vision she had spun as excruciating pain sprang up her left side. Her head hurt, badly. She lay down again and took stock of her condition. Extensive martial arts training had gifted her with endurance beyond the norm, but it seemed that whatever force had thrown her nearly twenty meters, had been somewhat less than considerate of this fact. She was not badly injured, at least not to the point of incapacitation. Apart from her skull, the pain that she felt seemed to be more muscular than anything else.

Beams of wood blocked her view of the sky as she prepared herself for a second attempt at sitting up. While holding her head carefully with her right hand she used her left to force her torso upwards into a sitting position. Kanako leant back against what she now recognized as the interior wall of the changing room and looked out through the gaping hole across what remained of Hinata Sou's hot springs.

It was nighttime, the moonlight cut thin shards of radiance through the steam that rose lazily from the water. Kanako looked about for the other residents, the confrontation far from her mind as her eyes scanned the devastated area. Palings lay scattered outward from the center of the explosion. It would take a lot of cleaning to get the hot springs useable again, Kanako noted with satisfaction. She took a certain childish pleasure in the destruction as echoes of her earlier rage surfaced. Kanako's eyes were drawn directly ahead towards where she had been standing when the button had been pressed.

That was where the damage was most severe. Little remained of the food cart that she and Naru had used to covertly reenter the Inn, a sign here, what was left of a wheel there. It was to be expected really, there had been enough packed explosives packed into that cart to take out the Inn nearly three times over. But something was wrong, her eyes widened as she looked up and strove to find any signs of damage on the main building. Hinata Sou stood tall and majestic, almost gleaming in the moonlight. _A testament to the skill of my workers,_ she thought ruefully, but surely there had to be some damage. Her gaze dropped as she remembered her last sight before being knocked unconscious. She had not imagined the white van that had driven up the hill. It lay on its side. Kanako stood slowly, holding her head as periodic flashes of pain returned. Kanako walked around the water and picked her way carefully through the debris while making her way towards the center of the explosion.

The Van had obviously been in better shape, all of the lights were shattered and the windows had cracks spidering across the glass. The passenger side sliding door had been blown inward from the force of the explosion, it had been the van that had absorbed the majority of the blast and spared Hinata Sou from destruction. Kanako wondered what had become of the driver, _whoever's in there is probably in worse shape than that door_. Deciding to check after the health of the driver, Kanako walked around the vehicle, searching for an entry point. With all of the windows cracked and passenger doors either out of reach or on the underside, it looked as though the back would have to do

Fortunately, the two loading doors were intact. As Kanako knelt to force them open, a groan came from within the ill-fated vehicle and for the first time since she had woken up, Kanako was worried. The van itself had sustained a great deal of damage in the blast, she dreaded to think what had happened to the driver. For ultimately it was her fault that he or she had been injured, as they undoubtedly were. Judging simply by the distance that the vehicle had been thrown it seemed impossible that anyone, even with her advantages could have escaped unharmed. She managed to force the left door open and peered apprehensively into the darkened gloom within.

A shape lay partially illuminated by the moonlight. To Kanako it looked as though the passenger side door had blown inward and crushed the driver against the interior wall. She could not imagine how this person had managed to find their way there before the crash, but she did not ponder it for long before the figure stirred once more.

After ducking into the van itself, she crawled on all fours towards the driver and managed to lever what remained of the sliding door off them. Kanako sat back for a moment to catch her breath, her headache was mostly gone now but she still felt somewhat disconnected from her body, _probably just a minor concussion._ She ruefully rubbed her forehead before her attention was drawn back to the mysterious person that lay in front of her. She could not quite make out his or her face in the darkness, yet there was something about it that drew her attention. Kanako leant down for a closer look, forgetting for a moment that she was the cause of its plight, intent only on discovering the identity of this unlucky stranger.

It was only for a moment, a moment that Kanako wished ever afterwards to be undone. The figure had tossed its head as if to shake off an unseen nightmare when the moonlight partially illuminated its terrifyingly familiar features. Struck dumb by what she saw, Kanako could only stare in mute disbelief as the enormity of what she had done crashed down upon her. Her strength giving out, she fell back against the doors and, half turning, she scrabbled desperately against the ground seeking to pull herself out and away from the dreadful revelation that lay injured behind her.

* * *

It was nearly 5 hours later, in the chill hours between midnight and dawn when the others managed to drag themselves up into wakefulness and out from underneath the debris to find her. She lay half on her side, arms outstretched, hands half clawing at the ground. Tears had forged silvery paths down her ravaged face, shallow breathing the only indication that she slept the sleep of the living. Naru knelt by her and brushed the hair from her face, shocked by the position that Kanako lay in. It seemed as though she had been trying to escape something, an exercise in futility if the expression on her face was anything to judge by. 

Naru straightened and looked around at the others, they were a sorry lot. Su, Shinobu and Sara leant upon each other in a daze, still not entirely understanding the events of the past day. Motoko stood tall, her sword in her hand, prepared to deal with whatever would come and Kitsune, she leant against a nearby tree still shaking her head to remove the fog of sleep. Motoko strode over, "Naru, the van…perhaps we should..?" she cut off lamely, her eyes more questioning than her words. Naru nodded silently then both she and Motoko stepped over towards the van.

Motoko was the first to enter, she brusquely forced both doors open and ducked inside, hiding worry behind her usual stoic demeanor. Naru watched her go in, still numb from the afternoon's events. "My god…" Motoko's quiet indrawn breath was enough to break Naru from her reverie and she stepped within. Sadly for Naru, It is often that which is most swiftly observed whose details stay in our mind the longest. This moment, much to her distress proved to be no exception.

As Naru raised her head from ducking inside, her memory forever froze the damaged interior of the van. The white half-light given by the moon partially revealing Motoko, eyes wide and hands covering her mouth, staring down in horror at the broken, bloodied form of Keitaro Urashima.

* * *

Motoko Aoyama was tired. Trudging up the corridor to her room, she sighed and felt a great weight upon her shoulders. _There will be little sleep for anyone this night_, the thought depressed her, sleep was exactly what they all needed. Yet forcing everyone to home and rest seemed likely to paint her as one of the chief devils in this, horrible drama that had unfolded.

Forcing her mind out of its reverie, she slid open the door to her room and stepped inside. Motoko stared dully at its contents, what had seemed like the proper environment for a warrior of her standing now appeared a pale mockery of the code in which she had been brought up in. She felt worthy of neither it nor its trappings. Like the others, Motoko had looked forward to Keitaro's return and now, to picture him as he was, lying quietly in the hospital bed, starkly outlined against the pale linen with his breath rasping through tubes, served only to highlight the kind of malicious influence that they had all wrought upon his life.

His time at Hinata Sou had been one catastrophe after another, injury after injury, inflicted in retribution for what later had seemed petty and insignificant accidents. Yet still he had smiled at them, eyes warm, forgiving all that they had... No. Day was the time for recrimination and guilt, at night both served only to pierce the spirit while preventing rest. That is what she had been taught.

Motoko blinked slowly and noticed a square, flat package lying just inside the door. It must have been placed there by Haruka the day before, and never noticed in the commotion. Bending down, she picked up the parcel. Brown butcher's paper covered the package, and string was wrapped around it to hold it closed. Motoko turned the package over to check the sender, _Aoyama Tsuruko. _

_What would Tsuruko send me?_ Her distress momentarily forgotten, Motoko leant her bokken against the door frame, grasped the package in both hands and shook it experimentally, there was no response. Settling herself down, back to the wall, she tore the string from the parcel and began to unwrap it.

Inside was a framed print, a reproduction of some forgotten artist's work. A wind-tossed tableau of sea and storm raged in the centre of the frame and such was the talent of the nameless artist, that when Motoko looked closely, it seemed as though she could see the crests of the waves foaming white in the chill wind. There was something about the scene that drew the eye and captured her attention. Motoko found it difficult to tear her sight from it and, when she succeeded, chilled muscles and blurred vision forcefully reminded her that she had not slept in over twenty-four hours. Standing then, and after placing the picture on her desk, she dressed for bed.

As she lay there in the darkness, Motoko's thoughts turned to the other residents. In the end, she had taken it upon herself to take the others home and ensure that they rested. Su and Sara have been uncharacteristically quiet, both were normally filled with energy and cheer, and while it was understandable that both were subdued, it was generally accepted that little could dent Su's irrepressibly bright personality. Motoko found it worrying.

Naru had stood in the doorway of the room, wanting to escape what she saw in the quiet body that lay within. She had seemed numb when Motoko had taken her arm and led her out quietly out into the corridor. Motoko suspected that Naru, like herself, was reminded of all the times that they had been responsible for his injuries. Now that his much vaunted invulnerability seemed to be failing, perhaps Naru was considering the part that she had played in setting Keitaro on the road that led him to that hospital bed.

The worst of all had been Kanako. She saw herself as responsible for her brother's plight and had embarked upon a course of mental self-flagellation. Inconsolable, she had barely responded when spoken to, and had sat staring blindly at the man whose side she refused to leave. On arrival back at Hinata Sou, Motoko had literally forced her and the rest of the other residents to their beds.

Staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep, Motoko's thoughts inevitably returned to Hinata Sou's ill-fated manager. That smile, it had brightened her day and stirred unfamiliar, unwelcome feelings in her deepest heart. Love had seemed to her something that happened only to other people, yet unlooked for it was determined to batter down every wall that she had built. Then, just when she was becoming used to the idea that yes, she did feel something for that perverted, clumsy man. He had gone away to America, her chances for exploring this previously unknown part of herself had gone with him, and on his return…. Motoko groaned quietly, _so much for rest. _

These thoughts had occupied her since the day they had all seen Keitaro off at the airport. She had spent hours searching for a suitable going away gift, alone, for it would not do to have the others suspect what lay beneath her swiftly shredding veneer of indifference. Motoko had entered store after store, looking for that one gift that would suitably express her feelings at his absence, not knowing whether _this_ was right, or whether he would be more interested in _that_. In the end, lacking confidence, she had turned back to what she knew best and given him a set of protective charms from the temple at Kyoto. While they were valuable it had just seemed so...so _impersonal,_ that was something that had never bothered her before. She now felt the need to grow beyond a warrior and show Keitaro and the rest of the world exactly what kind of _woman_ she could be.

Shaking off these thoughts, she turned her head slightly and the print caught her gaze once again. It was oddly visible through the darkness and Motoko could almost see the waves crashing down on that lonely deserted beach. She had always loved the beach. When visiting relatives in the summer she had often fallen asleep out on the porch in the sun, overlooking the ocean. She could nearly hear the waves again, the crickets chirping under the house, the wind blowing across the sand, Motoko's eyelids dipped languidly. The waves shifted slowly, crashing in time with remembered sound. She could feel the sun on her face and hear the ocean ahead of her, the breeze blowing her long lustrous hair as she walked hand in hand with, Motoko smiled lazily as her eyes closed, _Keitaro_. _Yes, _It was a nice dream.

* * *

The tree that the stranger sat in shook slightly, blighted leaves rustling, mirroring his own reaction to the wave of almost sensual pleasure that engulfed him. It had been so long, too long really, since he had manifested in this way. It was all so, _visceral_. The eyes in his borrowed face lost focus slightly as he looked inward. So, the first had been caught by his lure. He would retrieve her later but for now… His eyes shifted to the window that he sat facing and, with thin lips curled into a rictus of a smile, the stranger waited. Seemingly unaware of the small white ball held tightly in his right hand, being worried at, turning over and over.

* * *

Staring up at the ceiling in her room, Shinobu lay in her bed surrounded by stuffed animals. Tears stained her cheeks as she cried, cried for her injured sempai and cried for her affection that he had unknowingly discarded. The resentment, which had been growing in her for weeks, threatened to boil over. Her anger at Naru's treatment of Keitaro, her frustration that no matter how hard she tried, he would not see her as what she wanted to be, his confidant, his friend, his love, all rose in her until she could almost choke. There was nothing she could do but weep at the hopelessness of her situation. While clutching a stuffed bear to her chest, Shinobu quietly cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Shinobu winced as a resounding crash sounded through the Inn. Keitaro and Naru were fighting again, it seemed that their relationship of months was finally hitting critical mass. Sitting up in her bed, Shinobu knew, in the strange way that one does in dreams, that the two's relationship would not last much longer, she was filled with a sense of anticipation and did not know why.

Shinobu heard the door to Keitaro's room bang open as Naru stomped out. She got up out of her bed, put on a dressing gown and made her way down to the kitchen to fix herself a drink. She hoped that again, Keitaro would see the light and join her for their midnight confessional. It had become a habit that, after Naru had inevitably sent Keitaro soaring through low-flying airspace, he would come trudging back up the hill to the Inn and Shinobu would be there with a cup of tea to warm his hands and heart. She treasured the time they spent alone together, and he had come to trust her implicitly, regularly spilling his heart and asking advice on how to patch up the latest quarrel.

Shinobu set the kettle to boil and sat down at the table, He had become more withdrawn of late, and Shinobu felt something changing. She still held feelings for him of course and hoped that maybe, just maybe, she was replacing Naru in his heart. Guilt had been a problem for Shinobu in the beginning but she had long since lost all sympathy for Naru. A woman who treated her man that poorly did not deserve have him in the first place.

The kettle finished boiling just as Keitaro entered the kitchen; Shinobu looked up from the cups at him and winced slightly at his appearance. Judging by the twigs and leaves caught in his jacket and hair he had landed in a tree somewhere close by. His face wore a soft frown, but he smiled wearily at Shinobu as he took the cup from her hands and sat down across the table from her.

"It was bad tonight…?" Keitaro's head dipped slightly in answer to her question and once again, Shinobu felt an upwelling of sympathy rise from within her. _He doesn't want to talk about it_, Shinobu smiled at him comfortingly and earned herself an absent half-smile in return. Sitting there quietly, warming their hands with their tea, the two of them shared a comfortingly familiar companionship.

Time passed quickly and the sun was a few hours below dawn when Keitaro stood wearily and helped Shinobu up the stairs. They stopped next to her door and she looked up at his face, its lines seemed to her a map leading to suffering drawn with a pale, flesh coloured pen. As always she regretted letting him go off by himself to face dreams of that horrible woman alone, but it couldn't be helped, she offered what she could, a smile here and a light hug there. Hoping that it all added up for him, and that eventually he'd realize just what he meant to her.

Keitaro looked almost longingly at the door to her room, patted her lightly on the shoulder and thanked her quietly. He had turned to leave when she spoke up "You can you know, if you want to". Shinobu looked down demurely at her feet as she heard him look back over his shoulder, unable to meet his gaze. This was the part of the dream that she hated the most, he would keep walking and she would be left there outside her room, alone. To wake up in her real bed, her real body, and to wring what sleep she could from the remainder of the night, to ask herself why? Why couldn't she be happy even in her _dreams_?

As caught up in her distress as she was, the first inkling that her dream had taken a different course was when she felt Keitaro's hand on her shoulder. Shinobu looked up in astonishment at his face, and met his tortured gaze. "Shinobu…I …" his mouth worked soundlessly, and Shinobu was struck by the pain in his eyes. Capturing his hand with her own she opened the door to her room with the other and, acting on instinct, she pulled him inside.

Keitaro stopped in the doorway, staring at her. Shinobu almost giggled hysterically, _what am I doing?_ He took his hand from hers and began to pace. Where before he had seemed a dull, lifeless mannequin existing only to absorb what pity she offered, he now strode vigorously back and forth, an almost manic gleam in his eyes. Shinobu heard him muttering under his breath, "Naru…I can't". Sitting down on her bed, Shinobu tried to make sense of the riot of emotions that threatened to drown her.

He had _actually_ come in here with her, always before she had been left standing out there in the corridor, her tear filled eyes staring at his back as he walked away, again. She had pulled him in with her and now..._now what?_ Should she? No, But it was after all only a dream. Her jaw set in the determined expression that the waking Shinobu had never let show; she stood and prepared herself for the next, daring step.

It was not to be however, Keitaro had ceased his pacing and with his resolute expression mirroring her own, had walked quickly over to her. He placed a hand on each of her shoulders and bent down to look at her face, to Shinobu he had never looked more handsome than at that moment.

"Shinobu, I shouldn't…thanks, thanks for everything you've done, Naru it's just", he sighed, "It's just getting to be too much...I" Keitaro shook his head slightly, cutting off that line of thought, Shinobu's eyes widened, _was he really going to…?_

Releasing her again, he stepped over to her open window and sat down on the sill. He stared directly at her face and drew a deep breath, "I need to get out of here Shinobu, I'm choking, _she's_ choking me. I can't remember the last time that I was happy just to _be_ with her, it's too much now... I need to get away". Tears could bee seen glistening in his eyes as he looked down.

Overcome with pity, Shinobu stepped close and put her arms around him. Then she looked up into his face earnestly and asked, her voice almost breaking "Will you take me with you?". Shock flittered across her sempai's face for a moment before a glorious smile arose. Yes was whispered and Shinobu looked down to hide her own tears before she tightened their embrace and left her dreams behind.

* * *

Su sat alone on a tree branch in her room and read. The blinking lights and mechanical whirrs of her inventions were no bother, focused as she was on the book she was reading. It was a medical text, bought months ago in an attempt to discover the secret of one ronin's apparent immortality. Now Su pored over it intently, making notes and sketching diagrams, designing a new physiology for the one who had made Hinata Sou such an enjoyable place to live.

Shock had struck the others at the hospital and they were capable only of staring in horror at their manager's damaged body. They had mistaken her uncharacteristic silence for sadness and depression like their own, yet Su's thoughts had been focused elsewhere. Her prodigiously powerful mind had been already making plans, treating Keitaro's body as simply another machine that needed to be fixed.

Su looked up for a momentary glance at the picture that was tied to the branch above. It showed her upon Keitaro's shoulders with a V-sign for the camera. He was looking off to the right distracted by Naru's incoming fist, no doubt a punishment for carrying innocent, little Su on his shoulders. It was her favorite photo and she kept it here for those times when she slept on her own and woke up cold and shivering. To remind her that she was not alone.

There was a rustling above her head but Su paid it no mind. Her room contained a menagerie of exotic animal species imported around Japan's strict quarantine and it was common for her to be evaluated as a potential late night snack. Fortunately, since the incident with a stolen cache of bananas, Fred the hungry crocodile and a newly invented pulsar rifle, most of her co-inhabitants now kept their distance when she was working, human inn tenants included.

A furry arm bearing a hideous stench reached past her face, paused, then moved up to let its long fingered hand brush her prized photo. Su's hand stopped in the middle of turning a page as she turned her head slowly to gaze at the unfortunate creature that had interrupted her study.

Two enormous blue eyes stared back at her; they were set high in a face that seemed more caricatured than comical. Enormous lips puckered thoughtfully as the creature frowned, then looked over Su's shoulder back at the picture. A second long jointed limb reached around to scratch at an inflamed, hairy posterior as Su continued to stare at the brightly coloured ape. A sudden smile stretched across its cheeks and split the enormous face in two. Brow raised in a jeering expression, the creature snatched at her prized photograph.

The twine holding it in place broke with an audible twang. Su reached for the thief's arm but her habitual dexterity was absent and she overbalanced, then had to clutch tightly at the branch below to keep herself from falling onto the grass. The ape slid smoothly down the tree trunk and bounded over to the door. A swift tug pulled the panel open as the creature looked back over its shoulder at Su. She, with both her arms and legs wrapped tightly around the tree branch, could only look on in amazement as the long-limbed thief made an obscene smacking sound with its lips, smiled hugely at her, and then deliberately smacked its swollen rear-end in her direction.

Su swung down from the branch and dropped lightly to the floor just in time to see the monkey slam the door behind itself. Su swiftly gathered up a few of her more destructive creations before charging out into the corridor after the thief, not pausing even for a moment to consider what the bizarrely rude creature would want with her precious, paper enshrined memory.

Out in the hallway Su paused for a moment and sniffed experimentally, her nose was more sensitive than most and, with the hideous stink that followed it, tracking the creature by smell seemed a very real possibility. It led her down the corridor to the stairwell, to where a window was half-open. An enormous pair of grimy handprints marked it as the exit point for the thief and Su hopped up onto the window ledge and looked out.

The window pointed back towards the hill on which Hinata Sou sat. The moon was dark, barely illuminating the short gap of grass that separated the Inn from the forest that rustled quietly in the chill night breeze. A crackle of twigs from the edge of the trees caught Su's attention, and she whipped up her firearm and sighted down the barrel towards the noise. There was a flash of red and she almost fired, but the monkey was already out of sight and moving deeper into the woods.

Su paused for a moment, it now seemed almost certain that the strange, ugly creature wanted her to follow it. It had never seemed intent on making its escape as quickly as possible. The slow deliberate theft of her photo, the jeering smile and the obscene gesture at the door, all seemed designed to inflame her anger and affect her reasoning. Su was _supposed_ to give chase, and she was not entirely sure that she should.

The picture had been stolen and she _did_ care about it a great deal. It stood in her mind as a representation all of the happy times that she had experienced at Hinata Sou. Su could look at it and feel at ease, the golden memories alleviated the periodic loneliness that surfaced at bedtime.

At home in Molmol she had often been alone, the pressures and responsibilities that came with running a kingdom had often kept her mother and father too busy to spend time with their diminutive princess. After a quiet meal at a vast, empty table, she would retire alone to her room and lay in bed, staring out into the darkness. Sometimes if there was enough light, she could see the corner of the large room. When she looked up to where the two walls met the ceiling, the three-way corner would then recede away from her, stretching the room, making it and all of its contents save her, enormous. Su would then huddle in the centre of her bed, dwarfed by its immensity, eyes wide, waiting for morning.

If she were lucky, her brother would be awake and she would sneak out onto the balcony, and then call to him quietly across the dividing lattice wrought with ancient creepers, he would smile to her gently then nod. The nights spent with him were quiet and calm. Curled around him, Su found rest.

Unfortunately, for her, these nightly excursions drew the wrath of her older sister, Amalla. Jealously became a wall between the siblings and it was after one particularly vehement argument that Su, with her parent's consent, traveled to Japan. Hinata Sou had seemed like a safe place to live, each of the tenants with their own idiosyncrasies added colour and life to her existence. It never lasted though, with the setting of the sun her old fears came again. Kitsune had been shocked the first time that Su had snuck into her bedroom and pleaded to stay and had conceded more through pity than anything else. It quickly became a common occurrence and Kitsune was relieved when, with the arrival of Motoko, she could share the sleeping habits of the strong gripped princess with another.

Su's days before Keitaro were spent going to school, doing homework that was much too easy and creating then testing inventions with the assistance of the other residents,

Until that time, Su had never had a true guinea pig for her creations, while Motoko would occasionally indulge in some target practice mostly the other girls avoided Su when she was on the rampage. Keitaro changed that, he was never too busy to spend time with her, and had indulged her shamelessly by providing a ready target for all projectiles, energy or otherwise that came his way. An 'almost' older brother he had been until Motoko had gone on her training camp and had left Su with an unwilling Kitsune to spend the night. Ultimately, she had ended up with Keitaro. His smell, the way he murmured in his sleep, and his habit of blowing snot bubbles all reminded her of her sibling back home and forever cemented him as her substitute older brother.

They had only grown closer since then; Keitaro had treated her exactly as he would a younger sister and Su had wondered at the time whether he had experience in dealing with them. She now knew.

Su had been heart broken when he had left with Seta for America. The other girls had tried to make things the way they were before Keitaro had arrived and Su had gone back to sleeping with Motoko, but it had not been the same. Su had her older brother now and she could not let go of him so easily.

Since the accident and Keitaro's subsequent injuries, she had spent more and more time just staring at the picture. It served as a focus for her, whenever she felt as though she would give in to the grief and tears, a look at the picture would snap her out of her reverie and remind her. She was _not_ alone, she had people to care for who cared for her, and she would be _not_ let one of them slip away while she could help them.

Su's face set into a determined frown, she needed that photo to keep her resolve and she would not let some mangy, flea-bitten monkey take it away from her. Su jumped down from the window ledge and quickly made her way to the edge of the forest. The reek of the creature lingered in the air and seemed to lead her deeper into the woods. Her course was set, she would chase down the beast that would steal her precious memory and give it the beating of its life.

The forest was quiet at ground level and clear of undergrowth; above in the canopy the trees spoke to each other in rustling whispers engendered by the breeze. No signs of wildlife could be seen save a trail of long toed footprints left in the soft, moist soil that lead her onwards. Su spurred herself forward; she would end the chase quickly and return to her bed, leaving the chastised thief to nurse its wounds.

The trail left by the creature was a long one and Su had quickly lost count of the tall looming pines that she had passed, she paused for a moment then looked up. The high trees framed her view. No warm glow from Hinata's streetlights warmed the night sky and the moon was high and cold, not deigning to lower itself and light her way. Su looked around her; she stood in a small glade, surrounded on all sides by trees, her only reference, the trail of footprints leading her onwards, these she followed, uncaring of where they led, as long as the focus of her intent was there.

It was a while before she noticed the long tendrils of mist curling through the trees and about her feet. Su paid it little mind, she had often looked out on overcast days to see the hill behind Hinata Sou wreathed in cloud. She must have been nearing the summit. A rustle in the trees ahead brought her weapon up as she squinted to see its cause through the trees and fog. A small pebble came soaring out of the brush and caught her in the middle of her forehead and she jumped backwards, startled. There was silence for a moment before a heckling, bestial laugh came echoing out of the trees. Su's eyes flared in anger before she thumbed the sight on her weapon to an infrared mode.

The red outline of a bow-legged figure stood out against the cool blues and greens of the forest. A white-hot area could be seen facing Su; the face of the creature shifted and rippled as it laughed at her and a hand could be seen waving in the air clutching something with finger lines of heat across it. The picture, _her_ picture. Su let loose a round that drew a sharp red line across her sight that should have hit the revoltingly cavorting figure in front of her. Unfortunately, the creature leapt out of the way and loped out of range with its awkward gait, disappearing from the sight of both Su's eyes and her technology. She lowered the weapon and continued on her way.

The mist grew thicker as she walked, feeling its way blindly between trees and branches and reached down to brush clammy fingers across Su's face. She stopped again, unsure of her direction and looked up. Where previously the black night sky had shone, there was nothing but grey, obscuring fog. Su looked around and began to panic; there was no longer any sign of the creature she had been following. The mist surrounded her and it was getting thicker; fear rose suddenly in her throat and she almost choked before she stamped it down. Reason was her best tool in this situation. All thoughts of the thief had fled her mind and she now concentrated on finding a way out of the mist. Her best chance, she decided, was to find a place to rest and wait for morning to banish the cloud. Su remembered seeing on television that the forecast for the next few days was for warm and dry weather. She should be safe if she just waited for dawn.

Su held both arms out in front of her and walked forwards, looking for a tree to rest against. She found instead a smooth large smooth rock and, after moving her hands around it; she found that it sat between a fallen log and another smaller rock. Su carefully turned around and sat down on the thick blanket of pine needles with her back to the larger stone. She was grateful for the level ground that made her position, if not comfortable, at least bearable.

_Level_, the word rung in her mind for a moment before the thought made itself fully known. In all of the time that she spent walking through the woods, chasing the creature_, she had never once walked up or down a slope_.She had never climbed the hill behind Hinata Sou and she had never reached an altitude where rain clouds could form. Su fought down the rising panic again as she thought furiously, there were no large bodies of water in this direction relative to Hinata Sou to account for the condensation. _The mist was not natural._ The thought frightened her terribly. After all that she had gone through in the past week, Kanako's threatened eviction, Keitaro's injury, lack of sleep, the stealing of her picture and now being lost in an unnaturally mist bound forest, her mind just froze. She could not deal with any more surprises. With shivering limbs, she gathered her weapons close by. While chill from the rock behind her sunk slowly into Su's bones, she stared out into the quiet, grey gloom and waited for morning.

* * *

Over four hours ago, Naru had sat down at her kotatsu with the intention of studying, hoping perhaps, that it would take her mind off Keitaro's current condition. It had turned out to be a hopelessly optimistic wish. Now she sat slumped forward, her head in her hands, staring down blindly at the notebooks and pens that lay scattered about the table.

Her hair hung unbrushed about her face, in the past few days she had possessed neither the time nor the inclination to take care of her appearance. It seemed a trivial concern now. An expression of misery twisted her attractive face as she tried with all of her might to remember happier times.

Naru had never realized how integral a part Keitaro had played in the formation of her happiness. Overall, she had seen his departure for America as a good thing, a chance to return Hinata Sou back to what it was and to forget about one pervert's lecherous behavior. Life at Hinata Sou after Keitaro's departure had not been what she had expected at all.

While there had been no obvious signs of unhappiness, it had showed in the small things. Shinobu would occasionally turn away unsmiling, too quickly after a morning greeting and Su had spent more and more time alone in her room, appearing only for meals. Kitsune had also isolated herself more from the other tenants, drinking alone at night in her room, surfacing at noon the next day with a headache for some half-hearted teasing before disappearing again. Rather than a close-knit group of friends, everyone was reverting to pre-Keitaro days and becoming more a collection of individuals who just happened to share chores and a home. She too, had missed the bumbling fool who was always stumbling over himself to apologise and, for the first time in years, Naru had felt lonely.

The shock of Keitaro's return and subsequent injury had affected Naru deeply, She, like the others, had been eagerly anticipating his arrival; partially with the hope that he would resolve the 'Kanako situation' but mostly because he was the unknowing catalyst that held them all together.

The image of him lying there, inhumanely pale surrounded by beeping, mechanical benefactors was seared into her mind. It was not so much the fact of his injury that rocked her the most but the sudden reversal of his invulnerability. She was used to seeing him bounce back almost instantly from any misfortune, ready to apologise and forgive.

Naru tried desperately to drag her mind away from thoughts of Keitaro, but she could not. To her, the sudden reversal and Keitaro's comatose state made him seem truly dead to her mind. She could not accept a possibility of recovery; it had all happened too quickly and had seemed too final.

Naru felt herself becoming drowsy; she had not slept since the accident because she knew that behind closed eyes she would see only one thing; His eyes rolled up into his head with blood streaming from a cut above his left eye, his chest rising and falling slowly, the only sign of life.

She could almost see him there sitting across from her, a meditative frown pulling his brow down, at odds with the gentle smile he always wore when he didn't think she was looking. She looked away again, unable to accept what she saw in his eyes, _she wasn't worth it_. Naru heard a rustle and a ready rebuff rose to her lips but went unspoken.

Keitaro was glaring at her accusingly with streamers of blood running down his cheeks, he shook his head slowly and was suddenly three paces back from the table, still sitting and still looking at her. Naru stared back in horror; _he was leaving her_. A million feelings and a million thoughts rose all at once, yet all but one went unheard. Her arms came up and she stretched them out towards him, again he was further away, receding more quickly now, still staring at her, his face blank. Her hands clutched futilely at the empty air seeking to draw him back but he was much too far above and away from her now. Her arms and head felt leaden as she struggled to stand, to chase after him. "Don't leave me Keitaro..." was murmured through parched lips as her ankle caught on the kotatsu then she tripped and fell. Fell down into a shadowy well of darkness, down and away from Keitaro and his warm, red glow.

* * *

A cold hand caught Naru's head before it hit the tatami and the stranger lowered her gently to the floor. He knelt beside her and paused for a moment to give his starving eyes time to take in every detail. _This one was also quite beautiful; _the thought pleased him as he lightly brushed Naru's hair with the back of his hand; enamored as he was of its beauty and its real solidity he almost lost himself in contemplation before a presence called for his attention; he spoke to the empty air beside him, "Yes, they've been dealt with. Are you sure? If _she_ finds out the consequences could be…." He paused and listened to the silent reply, then nodded wordlessly and turned his attention back to Naru.

The stranger gathered her up in both arms and stood. His gaze turned inward as he summoned his true nature then spun and, trailing falsehood and illusion in his wake, he left Hinata Sou.

* * *

Akina hated the late shift at the hospital, that time of night the only ones coming in were either critical or crazies. Doctors were tired, nurses more so, everyone was tense while trying to do their jobs with a minimum of fuss, trying to keep on their feet until the next group came in so that they could stumble home to their beds, sleep, then do it all over again.

The automatic doors opened and a woman entered the foyer. She stopped and looked in Akina's direction then set her shoulders and strode over purposefully. The woman was quite tall; an ankle-length brown skirt matched a simple, white blouse that the woman wore. Her hair was shoulder length and russet brown. Akina did her best to think of an appropriate pickup line before she was knocked almost senseless by a pair of beautiful brown eyes.

"I'm looking for a patient, I heard that he was at this hospital" the woman's voice was melodiously low but fraught with tension. Akina's eyes watered a little in sympathy as the expression on that beautiful face became suddenly very sad. Akina was overcome by a need to help the poor woman; she would do anything to see a smile on that face.

"What is the person's name ma'am?" Visiting hours were well and truly over, but exceptions could be made in emergencies, and Akina was quite willing to make this case an exception.

"His name is Keitaro Urashima" The gorgeous voice grew husky for a moment as the woman cleared sudden tears from her eyes.

Suddenly jealous, Akina spoke up before she could think; "What is your relation to the patient ma'am?".

An unexpectedly shy smile revealed small, pearl-white teeth. "I am his wife".

* * *

Woops, I just realised that I've written a chapter consisting almost entirely of cliff hangers. It's mostly just setup at the moment, I am aiming to answer all questions that have arisen and will arise.

Also, please review it lets me know how I'm going as well as point out things I may have missed during my own internal editing.

Just letting me know what you think is great as well. ;)


	2. A Mystery and an Arrival

Disclaimer: I do now own anything even remotely related to Love Hina intellectual property, Any and all chapters I may or may not write also do not claim any ownership on my part of any Love Hina Intellectual property.

* * *

Kanako woke to the shrill dissonant screeching of her alarm clock. A garishly painted rooster floated above the red numbers that, from a great distance, told her that it was six am. The clock had been a gift from Keitaro for her twelfth birthday; he, wanting something to pair with his unbearably cute younger sister, had decided to buy her the most hideous alarm clock ever to have been imported from the shores of China. Its wailing synthesized crow had on more than one occasion torn their father awake and brought him charging down the stairs, half-asleep, to defend the family from whatever unholy creature was causing the infernal racket. The clock had been put out with the rubbish many times, but Kanako would always slip out and, after gathering it up carefully in both hands and clutching it tightly to her small chest, she would sneak it back inside to a prized position on her bedside table.

Her restless sleep had been fraught with nightmares, formless yet no less terrifying for it, filled with vague phantoms and lingering portents they had come, making her toss and turn in her futon before finally leaving her alone, to spend the rest of the night in dreamless, restless slumber. The dreams of _him_ had left….

Kanako blinked wearily and wiped the sleep grit from her eyes, everything reminded her of Keitaro.

She dressed quickly and quietly in the chill morning air, taking care not to make too much noise, lest she disturb the other tenants. Kanako snuck carefully out into the hall then down the stairs to the kitchen, snagged a bread roll from the bench and took a hurried bite before tucking it into her small bag and silently leaving Hinata Sou.

Kanako paused for a moment to do up the last few buttons on her coat. The slowly brightening sky was high and clear, still drawing the heat upwards and away from the earth. Air seemed to gather leadenly about her feet as she walked briskly to the stairs and made her way down to street level.

The teahouse stood quiet and empty, seemingly barred against incursion by the long tree shadows that reached thinly across the path. Kanako took care to tread lightly on the steps, Haruka often woke early to set up for business and, while she would likely not try to prevent her niece from visiting Keitaro on her own, she would prefer not to risk Haruka finding out then telling the others. Kanako had noticed that the Hinata Sou tenants preferred to do things in groups, she would not have them decide to join her and impose their commiserations upon her fragile calm.

The sloped streets of Hinata were cleanly empty in the cold dawn as Kanako made her way towards the train station. It would take her two trains to get within walking distance of the hospital where Keitaro lay unconscious and she had set her alarm deliberately early in the hope of travelling ahead of a wave of morning commuters.

An occasional lone jogger passed her by, dressed up awkwardly in too small tracksuits they puffed and gasped, embarrassed at the difficulty they took in such simple exercise. One and all they avoided looking at those they shared the pavement with; Kanako, each other. All seemed content to travel forward obliviously with their minds on what lay ahead, the journey ignored.

Hinata was, by and large populated by the elderly. Just far enough away from Tokyo to avoid a hectic pace of life; yet close enough to allow family resident in the city to visit via a relatively short travel time. It was perfect for those whose children had left home and wanted a quiet, slow place to live. There was relatively little demand for early morning commuting when compared with the larger centres in the area and as such, Hinata's train station was small and well kept.

Kanako shared the platform with a stooped, prematurely grey-haired man who clutched his suitcase white knuckled, while gazing blindly straight ahead. A train pulled up noisily, it was already half full. They both entered, the man hurriedly, as if afraid it would suddenly depart and leave him behind, then Kanako with a calm, measured step, unusually aware as she always was, of the gap between solid ground and wheeled transport.

Kanako had no problem finding a seat before the train slid out of the station, no one was standing. She took the remnants of the bread roll from her bag and began to chew on it meditatively. Lulled by the slow rocking of the train, Kanako stared out of the window across from her, past a woman who sat fidgeting with her scarf, at the rolling landscape.

The forested hills around Hinata quickly gave way to a flatter plain, Buildings were still frequent though these tended to be larger, and more industrial in purpose. They loomed in the new sunlight and cast squat shadows across the train racks, hiding then revealing in turn, the fresh, obscenely bright sky.

It seemed to Kanako horribly wrong that, after all that had happened; her alienation from the other Hinata Sou tenants, her rage at being duped by the one she had thought of as a friend, and then the injuries she had inflicted upon her much loved brother, that it could be as bright and as sunny as it was. As though all was right with the world the sun shone down brightly through a clear blue sky, for the seemingly sole purpose of making a mockery of her guilty anguish.

Yet it shone on, clearing away the last of the dark cobwebs that lingered in the world. The buildings were more frequent now, finding safety in numbers; they clumped together in groups of varying heights that grew larger and larger until they completely hid the countryside and the sun had to shine down narrowly between their threatening heights, then Kanako's train pulled into the next station.

This station was a hub for commuters from the outer limits of Tokyo, many trains from the outskirts stopped there before heading out again to repeat their loop. Leaving their human cargo behind to wait for their fellows who would take them further into the gleaming metropolis. The platform was packed with salary men and students, so much so that Kanako had trouble forcing herself through the human mass towards one of the ticket machines. Giving up hope of finding a seat on her next train, Kanako made a place for herself next to a pillar and waited.

She was the one of the last to walk through the doors that closed against the flood of humanity that had surged onto the train. Kanako counted herself lucky to be standing with a group of high school students, she hated the predatory smiles hidden behind a newspaper held high, as their owners shuffled closer

The train pulled slowly out of the station and began to trace its route through the city. The people within swayed as a single mass around corners then straightened awkwardly as individuals, embarrassed at the brush of a hand, a infinitesimal touch.

Faces to the floor they waited, their lives in abeyance as they hung poised between a location and a destination. Yet there were among them some for whom the journey itself held greater titillation than its eventual goal.

Kanako could see such a one, his back was to her, he stood straight and stared rigidly out over the shoulder of his intended victim. Kanako could see her face reflected in an angled traffic mirror, the poor girl couldn't have been more than fifteen. Short brown hair cut in a bob framed a face well suited to smiles but now wore an expressionless mask, aware of the enemy that loomed close behind.

The fingers on the unknown pervert's left hand flexed spasmodically, it was an ugly hand as hands go, a smattering of dark bristly hair across the knuckles was starkly outlined against pale white flesh that ended in ill kept nails. The hand drew closer and finally made contact, to the joy of its pale, sweaty faced owner.

The girl's head came back and she looked directly into the mirror. Kanako was disgusted by what she saw, there was no anger shown on the girl's face, no hate. Only embarrassment was the cause for cherry red cheeks and shame shone dully in the girl's averted eyes. Kanako _hated _victims.

After a seeming eternity the hand was removed and its owner left the train and his former prey behind him. To bask in the warm glow of the moment for the rest of his day, comfortably justified in his actions. Forgetting the tension and danger, remembering only a soft texture and the lightning thrill that had elevated him above his common stature for the most miniscule of moments.

The train pulled into Kanako's final station and she was left standing on the platform with her back to a departing window that framed just another unfortunate victim

* * *

The hospital stood apart from its neighbours among green gardens and free flowing lines lent a modern air to the building. It seemed to Kanako as though the architect had set out to design the complete opposite of a common archetype, to provide a bright, airy place for recovery and rest. Unfortunately, to Kanako a hospital was a place of sickness and disease, nobody wanted to stay there, it was not the inviting and cheery place it had evidently seemed on drafting paper.

Tall glass sliding doors ignored her for a moment before apologetically opening in a hurried kind of way. A row of heads turned to gaze at her in trepidation, their eyes searched her for injuries, hoping for nothing urgent that might usurp their place in line.

A preoccupied looking receptionist was sitting slouched in her chair with one arm leaning on the desk supporting her head, while the other hand doodled idly as she stared off into space. It took Kanako three tries to get her attention and the woman straightened in her chair. Bags under her eyes and an unnatural pallor gave the indication that there was something quite wrong with her health.

It was none of Kanako's business however so she began with an opening sally; "I'm here to see my brother". It was eight thirty in the morning and visiting hours started at nine but she was determined to force her way through any opposition that was foolish enough to stand between her and Keitaro.

So it was much to her surprise when a long fingered hand was lifted up slowly, still holding a pen, and waved her nonchalantly through the doors to the ward. The receptionist's eyes stared at Kanako in disinterest for a moment before both hand and gaze fell once again to the sketch that lay beckoning in front of her.

Not being one to waste good fortune, Kanako nodded once then strode quickly away, her step both light and swift, her thoughts turning inevitably to the one who awaited her arrival.

Behind her, Akina's hands once again began to trace the outlines of that beautiful face and the eyes, the eyes that made her world spin and a voice that whispered secrets for only you to hear.

The door to Keitaro's room slid open noiselessly and Kanako stepped inside. It was a private room and small, his bed lay parallel to the door with a window behind and, cluttered as it was with equipment, there was little room for visitors, but a single chair brought in from the hall by Haruka the day before sat by the foot of the bed.

As always she shivered slightly upon entering the room, the clinical cleanliness mixed with underlying exotic smells made her sensitive nose itch and her senses reel. Today there was something else, a hint of jasmine hung in the air, no doubt a nurse or doctor had taken the time to wear some perfume, but to Kanako it seemed an almost palpable female presence in the room and a violation of her brother's privacy. She smiled slightly at her own foolishness and reigned in her fancies, hospitals always did strange things to her, particularly with Keitaro laying there swathed in bandages.

She sat on the chair and looked at her brother. There was no change from the still form she had first seen that horrible night. Machines gathered about his head and torso as if to pay homage to a silent, linen swathed idol. They beeped occasionally, to remind whoever was watching of the life that still slumbered in the still, bed-ridden form. Kanako settled back in her chair, took a newspaper from her bag and began to read to him.

Reading to the unconscious has strangely calming affect on the reader. It is a denial of the condition that prevents the listener from responding, a statement that yes, they _can_ hear, they _can_ understand and they _are_ with us. Kanako picked stories of interest for her brother, a man was arrested for breaking into passport photo machines, a quickly glossed over report on the previous year's student intake for Toudai. Always she imagined his responses and the way that she would see him push his troubles aside and smile brightly just for her, inviting her conversation.

A discussion out in the hall broke her concentration;

"… wake up at any time" The first voice she remembered hearing; a doctor who was consulted during Keitaro's admittance.

"You're saying that he could wake up at anytime ?" An unrecognisable woman's voice, rich in tone tugged at Kanako's ear.

"Possibly yes, I've never seen anyone heal so quickly, we could even force him to wake up via medication if .. " The doctor was cut off by an indrawn breath and what sounded like a vigorous head shake.

" No.."

The first voice continued smoothly;

"Of course I wouldn't recommend it, forcing these things can be dangerous"

"..Yes..." the woman sounded worried, and unsure.

"On the whole, he is well on the way to a complete recovery, as I said earlier, it's amazing how well he is doing, all things considered."

Footsteps faded down the corridor and the door to Keitaro's room slid partially open.

"Oh!", it was the woman's voice and Kanako spun in her chair ready to berate the rude stranger who had disturbed her peace but was totally disarmed.

"I'm sorry, I must have the wrong room." A gentle, apologetic smile caught the words in her throat and the door was shut again, leaving Kanako and Keitaro alone in the room with a fog like daze that lifted quickly and, Kanako frowned, the slight enchanting fragrance of jasmine.

* * *

It was late before Kanako made her way back to Hinata Sou, the two trains she rode heavily were empty and dark. She sat devoid of thought, fatigued emotionally and as a consequence physically by a day spent watching over her brother. White street lights coldly illuminated her path from the train station and she paused for a moment at the bottom of the stairs up to Hinata Sou, the way looked shadowy and forbidding.

Her foot was barely on the first step when the door to the teahouse was slammed open and she turned her head to see Sara, Kitsune and Mutsumi staring at her in relief. Haruka strode out briskly and looked at her silently for a moment before taking a cigarette from her lips. "You'd best come inside kiddo" she said in her nonchalant drawl before hustling the other three back to the warmth inside.

Kanako watched them enter the teahouse, "What is it, Aunt Haruka ?", she had expected at least an eye twitch caused by the appellation but went disappointed. Haruka paused in the doorway and put her cigarette out on the sole of her right shoe, before turning her eyes back to her niece and saying, quite matter-of-factly; "Motoko, Naru, Su and Shinobu and are missing".

* * *

Motoko's rise into consciousness was nowhere near as smooth as her descent. She first became aware, in a vague sort of way, of an uncomfortable itching in her lower back. Then a dull roar gradually intruded itself upon her awareness, her eyes opened and she looked around in shock at her surroundings.

A cold sea stretched out towards the horizon, dark storm clouds threatened rain they had yet to deliver and it was impossible to tell what time of day it was, so gloomy was the light. She half sat, half lay in a bunch of Spinifex, and in front of her a small fire burned brightly beside a large stockpile of what she could only assume was firewood.

Motoko straightened and pulled her light sleeping kimono about her, _it was cold_. A stiff breeze blew in from the ocean to bounce against… She looked up and saw to her dismay, that she sat on one end of what was a thin sliver of beach, perhaps three or four kilometres in length, surrounded entirely by sharp, jutting cliff faces.

_Where was she ? how did she get here ? _both of these questions were at the forefront of her mind, panic was gathering its forces so she forced her breathing to a calm measure and cleared her mind as she had been taught, then looked about carefully for a means of escape.

The cliff directly behind her was unscaleable, it was too sheer and smooth for climbing, so much so that it hardly looked natural. Only clumps of some unknown, hardy plant lent colour to the hard, dark grey rock that loomed solidly above her.

In the distance, the cliff faces were indistinct so Motoko decided to take a walk and examine them more closely for a potential path to climb. She stood woozily, her head was fogged for an unknown reason but it cleared quickly enough after a few shakes. Unfortunately with this her kimono became embarrassingly loose about her chest and she was forced to clutch it quickly before it came undone entirely, flushing red with embarrassment, irrespective of the distinct lack of observers, Motoko hastily retied it and went on her way.

The walk was slow and tiring, sand refused to come together under her feet and with each step she sank lower, each taking more effort to make than the last. About half way across she stopped for a moment to rest and sat with her back to a large boulder and stared out to sea. She noticed something strange almost immediately, _The line at which the waves broke was consistent along the entire length of the beach._ The sea, existent for so long in the imaginations of men and woman as eternally changeable and constantly mutable had in this place been chained, forced to conform to a level. The very thought appalled her so much, that she refused to even entertain the idea of walking down and checking it more closely. For the rest of her walk, Motoko stayed close to the cliff walls.

The other end of the beach was much like where she had begun, in fact, the only discernable point of difference was the absence of a fire like the one she had woken up next to. Things were beginning to seem very wrong in this place.

It was later than she had thought it would be by the time she started back, curiously the weather had cleared almost instantly with the onset of dusk and now the moon rose in a black sky and she was forced to use the beacon of fire to find her way.

The moon was high and distant, its light shone dully upon the sand, providing no real light for Motoko. But on the sea it was darker still, illuminating nothing, serving only to emphasise the immensity and depth of the waves. There was something hungry about it, something _wanting_. Nobody really likes moonlit walks on the beach, it seems a nice idea but once out there with a loved one in the darkness, the sea is icy and immensely greedy, conjuring images of long, spindly plants to twine about legs and to drag them down, to be devoured and forgotten.

The fire grew steadily in Motoko's vision until, with some relief she slumped down next to it and basked in its cheery warmth. It flickered now and again in the chill breeze and Motoko huddled close with her back to the cliff, the fear of leaving her back exposed to such gluttonous immensity mastering the sight of its empty vastness. She piled more wood on the fire and tried to ignore the sound of the waves railing against their cage and the overall unresolvable strangeness of the place in which she now found herself.

She thought back to her last waking moments in Hinata Sou, the painting, surely it was no coincidence…But no. Such a thought was absurd, the old tales of bolthole kingdoms told to her by her grandmother were surely just that…tales. But it was hard to reconcile her modern sensibilities with this place, much less tales of ancient mischievous kami then, for Motoko Aoyama, it was long, cold and hungry night.

* * *

She first saw him as a mirage, wavering closer to existence with each step he made. A divider between the beach and cliff, he was tall and dressed entirely in white, a short sleeved shirt and ankle length cargo pants revealed pale skin. He wore no footwear and his only ornament was a pair of rounded blue sunglasses that glinted strangely in the bright morning sun.

Motoko's mind went into overdrive and adrenaline surged, she sat up and pulled her grimy kimono tighter, eyes searching for a weapon. The fire had gone out some time during the night but fortunately this morning, the sun was high and warm. It provided no comfort to her however as she shrank back against the cliff face and watched the stranger's arrival.

He was whistling cheerfully and his step was bouncy, these things were at odds with Motoko's estimate of his age. He was older than her certainly, but how much she could not say, there was a curious youth about him, but it rang false, false like the beach, the cliffs and the sun. A large basket swung merrily from his right hand as he strode forward and paused for a moment to look her up and down.

"Well, don't you look a sight", one eyebrow quirked and a wide smile tried to put her at ease. His voice was higher in pitch that she had expected, but not disturbingly so. His eyes were hidden, but she got the disturbing impression that he was laughing at her.

He placed the basket down on the sand opposite her and sat on it, his head cocked to the side, his manner seeming to invite her questions.

"Who are you ?", much to her dismay, her voice carried a slight tremor, but the words came out clearly enough and she eyed him carefully, alert for any threatening moves. While she was at her strongest with a sword or bokken, her teachers had not been lax in instructing her in unarmed combat . The man smiled broadly at her question, looked flattered for a moment before shaking his head, he stood and began to unpack the basket.

He took from it first, a large chunk of bread, judging by the smell, freshly baked. Embarrassingly her stomach rumbled and he paused to look at her in amusement before then removing a large chunk of yellow cheese. Closing the lid of the basket he sat down again, broke the loaf of bread in half with a sharp twist and leaned across the now cold fire to offer it to her.

Motoko looked between him and the bread suspiciously before asking another question, her voice stronger now, and more demanding.

"_Where am I ?_"

The new arrival sighed noisily, and said in an irritatingly casual tone, "You are _here_, now eat", Again he motioned with the bread towards her. She shook her head and her mouth opened again before she felt him roll his eyes. The man straightened then took a large bite from the other half of the loaf and chewed deliberately, then he held his arm out to her again, his gaze demanding.

Before she knew it, the bread was in her hand and he was leaning back, what was in his mouth went forgotten as he watched her chew lustily on the first food she had come across in two days.

Motoko caught him watching her intently and flushed with embarrassment and irritation. Normally she would react violently to such a gaze but she felt no malice from this stranger, his Ki was calm and she needed whatever company she could get. So she settled for gesturing angrily at the food held unnoticed in his other hand, but he only smiled secretively at her then placed the rest of the loaf on the sand and said in his now familiar flip way, "This food is no good for me".

She finished the bread quickly and accepted a chunk of cheese from his outstretched hand, her hunger making her careless. He continued to watch her carefully, only occasionally looking up at the sun, seeming to mark the passage of time.

Abruptly he stood, picked up the picnic basket then motioned for her to join him. Seeing her reluctance he shook his head in mock despair and said, motioning with his unencumbered arm "Come, I will take you to a place of shelter".

Motoko stared at him for a moment, disbelieving, there was no way out of the little cove, she had made _sure_ of that despite her despair the day before. This man was clearly mad, _but then again_ she thought to herself, _this whole place is insane. _

She stood slowly while holding her kimono carefully with one hand, he watched with amusement as she maintained her distance from him then, he began to walk.

His step was light on the sand and like the day before, Motoko found the way trying. He ignored the strangeness of the tide and looked only ahead towards the cliff that jutted out to sea. She tried to tell him, more than once, the she had already been there, that she had exhausted all possibility of escape via that route, but every time she opened her mouth he would inexplicably begin whistling. Warmed by the sun but sullen, Motoko followed her mysterious benefactor.

The sun was high overhead when they finally reached the boundary cliff face, the stranger showed no evidence of tiring, no sweat dripped down from his forehead. Motoko was not so lucky but she refused to let the fatigue show on her face, though to her mind it seemed that all he would have to do would be to look at her, then it would be as plain as the nose on her flushed face.

But his eyes were on the cliff face ahead, he strode up and, seemingly at random, pushed his arm elbow deep into the rock. He fished around for a moment with a slight frown on his face before a click was heard, his face cleared and his arm was withdrawn.

To Motoko's consternation, a large square out of the cliff face roughly three feet to her left, simply faded from view. She looked back at the man to find him watching her with an amused smile on his face, he gestured briefly at the human sized hole but, noticing her lack of reaction, shrugged slightly and walked into the darkness with a confident step. Not wanting to be left behind, alone on the disquieting beach, she followed quickly after him.

If asked afterwards Motoko would have been able to remember details of her journey. Only images of the stranger's white hair bobbing above and in front of her as they climbed a stairway hewed roughly from the rock would be present in her mind. If asked, she could not tell how they were able to see in that place, light was directionless and lacking in colour, it seemed simply that they had to be able to see to travel, and so they were able to. And finally, if asked her how long it took them, in ordinary units of time, to arrive at the solid, iron bound door that barred their path, she would once again be forced to admit that she simply didn't know.

The door opened at a knock from the stranger and they both stepped through to another place entirely. The transition was sudden and disorientating, one moment her eyes had been struggling to see then the next they were watering from a relative brilliance. Light came beaming through two open shoji doors on either side of a long corridor.

When her eyes had adjusted to the new brightness she saw that the white man was gone. She was alone again, and the weight of two days worth of uncommon strangeness and isolation made itself known suddenly upon her shoulder, then she almost buckled to the tatami beneath her feet, at least _that _was familiar.

Motoko's hair hung long about her face as she tried to find her inner strength, the core that existed in every practitioner of her sword school. She was struggling to centre herself when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her head came quickly around, unprepared for this new surprise, and she found herself looking into the kindly face of an old wrinkled woman. It smiled grotesquely but gently, and said in a grating, rasping voice;

"Come on dearie up we go up we go" the old woman helped Motoko stand, she could only react to events now, numb as she was, "Old Shimobe has work to do yes she does especially now that the master is back, Oh !" the crone paused for a moment to inspect Motoko's appearance and sniffed in a derogatory manner. "WELL," momentarily lost for words the old woman tapped a wide knuckled finger against her lips meditativelybefore grasping Motoko's hand in both of hers and gently, but hurriedly, led her down the corridor.

The crone kept up a stream of chatter meant to calm Motoko, but her ears were deaf. She did not hear the bustling noise that bespoke a community nor saw the opulence of the carved wooden panels that hung above each doorway. She followed blindly down the maze of corridors and small rooms until something was said that finally caught her attention.

She stopped before a door and stared then Shimobe, as the woman was evidently called, turned to her and repeated what she had last said, "We can get you a bath and new _clean_ set of clothes after you've met up with your friends, that would be nice, wouldn't it ?" The hideous but kind face beamed up at her.

Motoko shook her head in confusion; "My friends ? I don't understand…"

"AH!" it was said as a weighty pronouncement and the old woman turned to the shoji sliding door that they had stopped in front of. She grasped both halves of the door and flung them open dramatically, giggling like a madwoman the whole time and an audible silence came from within the room, the type that signifies an interruption of conversation.

Motoko tiredly turned her head, wondering what new horror she would be exposed to. Hammered as she had been by one surprise after another, her eyes could only widen in amazement at the sight of Naru, Shinobu and Su sitting opposite each other, dressed in traditional day kimonos and staring back at her in shock and not a little bit of relief.

* * *

Ok, I'd just like to say at the outset I have never in my life groped someone on public transport.

Mutsumi, Kitsune and Sara make a very minor appearance in this chapter, Mutsumi will play a greater role later on, as will Haruka, but the latter will play minor parts at best. The story focuses over all on Keitaro, Naru, Motoko, Shinobu, Su and Kanako. How can I focus on a character who lays injured in a hospital bed, you may ask ? but I won't tell you. Just wait and see.

Reasons for the slow update – None, writing is a slow and torturous process for me, I have to make time to sit down and belt it out, but I'm not complaining, slow and steady wins the race after all. Hopefully.

Thanks to my first six reviewers, in quite deliberate order; Khazad, Vermilion-ZERO, Harvey Bautista, Prince of Dragons, A.Mills and Demon King Piccolo. It's always fantastic to get feedback and hopefully you're all setting a trend for my story 

So far it's coming out a little more angsty than I originally had intended, but we'll see how it goes. I have the entire thing planned out in a fair bit of detail so I shouldn't lose my way.

I once again ask that if you take the time to read my story, please leave a review, it doesn't take long and lets me know what the public thinks so I'm not writing in a bubble solely for myself.


	3. Prisoners Lost

Disclaimer: I do now own anything even remotely related to Love Hina intellectual property, Any and all chapters I may or may not write also do not claim any ownership on my part of any Love Hina Intellectual property.

Well it's been too long really, got a new job etc, etc, blah blah blah, I'm slow.  
Thanks go to all the reviewers (if they're still around), you will notice that this chapter  
is significantly shorter than the first two, mainly because I decided to try and stick more  
closely to my outline.

As always, please leave a review, it lets me know how I'm going, if it's good, great or mind numbingly boring. Let me know !

* * *

The door slid shut as Motoko dropped to her knees on the tatami mat. She was immensely relieved at the sight of these three familiar faces. 

Naru had been startled when Motoko entered the room, now she was scrutinizing Motoko carefully, taking in her state of dress. Motoko shifted under Naru's gaze, and the other woman sighed.

"So how was it for you? " Motoko stared blankly at the question. "How did you get here?", Naru sounded exasperated and upon closer inspection, looked uncharacteristically careworn. Her hair stood out in strands, her clothes were rumpled and her eyes blinked blearily at Motoko as she awaited an answer.

"There was a beach, and a man" Motoko's hand rose in denial as her sempai's eyebrows rose incredulously. "He gave me some food, we walked and, I was here" she finished lamely. Try as she might, the details of her journey skittered about and eluded her fumbling mental grasp.

Naru nodded at Motoko's apparent confusion and leant forward to place her hand on the other girl's leg.

"It was the same for us" she said simply and straightened, one hand lifted to brush hair from her eyes. "I was studying and…" she paused, "I fell asleep, I woke up and was I here, with the others". Her lips tightened and she frowned. "Su hasn't said anything since I woke up and Shinobu" Naru gestured in frustration, "won't tell me".

Neither of the two had spoken since Motoko had entered the room, Shinobu sat silently, her head had been tilted as she had listened to her elders but straightened in response to Motoko's inspection and made no eye contact. Su lay curled up on the floor, her eyes tightly closed, she was filthy.

Motoko would have gotten up and gone to the young girl but her legs did not want to work. The warmth and relative comfort of the room sunk deep into her wind chilled bones and made her drowsy.

Resolved to talk to help her concentrate, Motoko spoke, "Do you know where we are?", Naru shook her head and opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted.

The shoji door slid open violently and a woman stepped into the room. She was dressed magnificently in the old style. A brilliantly coloured kimono was the first of many layers, decorated about the hem with silver images of kingfishers among reeds, it rippled in the warm golden light brought in from the corridor.

The clothes belonged to an older woman, high of brow and large of eye, she stood before the doorway in silhouette and looked down at them.

Motoko had risen to a half crouch facing the door at the stranger's entry and her hands had grasped for an absent sword. Yet no threatening move was made and she looked back at Naru uncertainly, she had slid back to kneel protectively near Su.

"Hmmmm" The woman stepped majestically into the room, her clothes rustling softy and inspected the four carefully.

"Who are you?" Naru's voice was too strong and she seemed to start at the sound of it.

"I am Lady Masahiro, and you are Narusegawa Naru, Aoyama Motoko, Maehara Shinobu and," her eyes paused on Su and seemed to soften momentarily, "Kaolla Su".

Motoko stood to make herself the equal of this new arrival and leant forward aggressively, she had been intimidated enough today.

"What is this place? Where are we?" her voice was tight and sounded nowhere near as strong as she had wanted it to.

Lady Masahiro's eyes widened slightly then a hint of a smile passed over her lips.

"This is the fortress and you are here at the behest of our Master", it was said quite matter-of-factly in tones melodious.

Shinobu started slightly and pressed her hands to her lips.

Lady Masahiro continued, "You are here because you have broken an oath or some binding promise" her delicately plucked eyebrows drew down slightly," Though that it is at his will, should be enough for you".

She looked at Motoko and seemed to gather herself. "You will meet him soon enough, but first you must be made presentable". She clapped her hands swiftly and a multitude of maids streamed into the room.

They carried traditional clothing of every size, colour and pattern and swarmed around each of the four girls. Su was woken gently and responded only to the lightest of feather touches. There was a maid each to tidy the hair and wash the face, another to strip the body and sprinkle it in aromatic oils and a third to choose kimonos, beautiful kimonos of red and white, patterned and plain, the most beautiful kimonos that Motoko had ever seen.

She tried to resist of course as did Naru, but both were led by gentle touch and the warmth of the room lulled them, and drained their will.

Lady Masahiro drifted among them offering comments on hair styles and colour choices, sometimes one would disagree with her but a swift glance quelled any rebellion and her way was had.

At last the four were dressed, the women filed out of the room and down the corridor leaving Motoko and the others to stand dizzily for one final inspection.

Lady Masahiro looked them up and down in turn and nodded reluctantly, "You will do", she smiled too brightly. Motoko made to speak but her words died to a head shake from the strangely intimidating woman.

"It is almost time, come", with that she led the four girls out into the corridor and off into the golden, late afternoon haze.

* * *

The "Fortress" as they came to discover was a bewildering maze of shoji screen lined corridors, gently sloped timber staircases and small terraced gardens. There was never a transition from one to the next, a corner could unexpectedly lead out into the blinding sun or down into a darkened cellar. 

The wood beneath Motoko's slippered feet as she walked and the airy breeze that seemed to flow wherever they went, anchored her in the reality of the place.

After a time, they came to a small antechamber at the top of a flight of stairs. Behind a door at the furthest end of the room the sound of birds raised in a tremendous cacophony could be heard.

Here Lady Masahiro stopped and turned to face them. Her face was solemn, "I leave you here now", she paused, "remember he is the Master of this place, it exists only by his will and that we are all his". Before a question could be asked she brushed past and down the stairs behind them, leaving them to an uncertain fate.

They stood there for a little while looking about the small room. It had a wooden floor that coloured the later afternoon sun a darker shade of brown, and was walled with wooden panels elaborately decorated with regular, meaningless patterns.

Motoko felt uncomfortable in her new clothes, her crimson bordered kimono speckled with tiny embroidered snowflakes seemed too fine for a warrior like herself. She had worn nothing like it since she had been a small child, and these days had neither the inclination nor the occasion to wear similar.

Naru however looked at ease in her new finery and was trying to get a response out of Su and Shinobu, with little success.

The door at the furthest end of the room opened and the sound of birds grew louder still. Motoko looked at Naru for guidance, she shrugged.

The swordswoman breathed out forcefully, trying to expel her worries and speculation, then drew a deep breath and strode straight backed out into the dappled green light.

Motoko found herself in an immense courtyard shaded by trees of bewildering variety and shape. They drifted gently in the breeze, patterning their shadows back and forth upon small brown cobblestones.

Ahead, seemingly sheltered in the bow of an enormous pine, sat a large white pavilion. Its flaps were shut and the golden embroidery about its base danced in the wind.

The sound of absent birds cut off abruptly and Naru gasped as the two front flaps drew back from a shadowy interior and invited the four's entrance. Motoko made her way across the slightly overgrown cobblestones to the pavilion, not caring whether or not the others followed and stepped inside.

The interior was larger than its exterior implied. A long carpet led down the back towards a raised dais. People flanked the carpet, kneeling with their heads bowed, they were of all races, ages and periods of dress. Their one commonality was their complete silence. There must have been hundreds of them, impossible hundreds.

Motoko's eyes were drawn irresistibly to the dais upon which sat, like a throne, a tall, high backed chair. It was occupied.

The figure stood quickly in one swift motion, all angles and elbows. It was dressed lightly in plain dark trousers and a flowing long sleeved white shirt. A man, Motoko decided, the person's thin, hipless figure made her think so.

The breeze shifted the tree that hung above and the pavilion became suddenly brighter and Motoko straightened in shock. A silver mask, obviously modeled on a face of refined, noble lineage gripped the back of his skull and flowed forward down over his face. The gleaming lips smiled politely as he walked down the aisle toward them, and a small ball of polished white wood swung gently from his neck with each step.

"Welcome", His voice was low and smooth, cultured and refined. Motoko decided to make every effort to disbelieve everything that it would say.

"Welcome", he repeated as he stopped in front of them and bowed slightly, looking up at Motoko through his too expressive mask.

He moved close to Motoko who, feeling her space invaded, made to step back, but the man caught her chin in a gloved hand and held her there.

Motoko began to shake as he turned her face as he inspected her profile, not with shame or fear but with anger, she had tensed to strike him, not caring about the consequences when he released her and stepped backwards.

The male looked her up and down, his eyes were insultingly appraising. The mask's lips moved with his words, "Aoyama Motoko, a pleasure," The face smiled sardonically, "You are much more beautiful than I was led to believe", a gloved finger tapped his metal lips meditatively, "perhaps this will not be such a chore after all.

He stepped past her and she caught the faint smell of sand and shore. She turned as he moved up to Naru.

The man shifted his hands to brush her hair from her eyes and ran his gaze over her face. "Narusegawa Naru, you are a treasure", he laughed lightly as Naru's hands clenched at her sides, unwilling or unable to strike her tormentor.

Next was Shinobu, and Motoko almost lost herself in rage when he hugged the young girl closely and she cringed in his embrace with a look of horror on her face.

_Be patient_, she told herself, whoever this man was (if he was a man at all), attacking him was not a solution. This place was too strange, too weird to make itself easily understood without help.

The crowd's faces turned to follow the man's every move, seemingly chained to his form.

Shinobu was released and she let out an almost inaudible sob as the man came finally to Su. He squatted before her and smiled a toothy grin, she did not react. He grinned impossibly widely and stood again and cried out;

"Marvelous!", it rang into the empty silence, filling a space that Motoko had not noticed. He turned to the crowd that lined the aisle and walls.

"Show your appreciation for the magnificent beauties that have been brought before us". It was an order, couched in jovial tones and their audience burst into loud cheers, falsely loud as their owners stood and begun to caper dementedly in celebration. Their Master looked on, his false face smiling and Motoko felt lost, and angry.

A swift chopping motion brought an end to the forced revelry and the man began to make his way back toward the dais.

Motoko could hold herself quiet no longer and burst out, "Who are you! What right do you have that allows you bring us here!" She was shaking, hands clenched as she leant forward angrily.

The man turned slowly and looked at her, the mask was furious now, except for the eyes that smoldered.

"What right?" he repeated softly, and the eyes narrowed.

"I have every right", he hissed as he too leant forward, "By the rights of blood and promises broken do I bring you and keep you here, you are now mine".

The crowed stared silently at Motoko as she shivered from the supernatural malice contained within his gaze. Then the mask twisted, and was smooth again.

"Leave me", he gestured at them and before Motoko could react she found herself with Naru and Shinobu outside the pavilion, the flaps now closed and the sound of birds rising deafeningly from the trees above.

* * *

They were led blind and dumb back to the room, through a darkening twilight and chill sea breeze they made their way, exhausted they came at last to its door and were left alone. Bedding lay heaped in the corner and sleeping clothes sat folded before the door, then Shinobu said her first words of the day; 

"Where's Su ?".

* * *

Machines thrummed as they bled their life sustaining fluids into the body that lay swathed in linen before them. The ward was dark, all but the emergency staff had gone home for the night. 

Urashima Keitaro mumbled something in his sleep as a perfectly manicured hand came to rest on his bandaged forehead.  
Perfect lips smiled in anticipation,  
"Let's rid you of the first one my heart", the women whispered to the slumbering man as she sat beside the bed and took his hands in hers. She laid her head upon his chest and closed her beautiful, beautiful eyes.

* * *

Once again, please leave review , it helps much more than you might think. 


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